CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“There it is. Lismort.” The captain pointed toward the battered ruins on the hills in front of them. “I hope the others will be there.”
“If they made it,” Rufus said quietly.
Urcias turned his horse to see his lieutenant. “If they made it? I don’t want to accept that. If I do, then what did we come for? It’s a moot point. I’ll not resign our world to that demon yet.”
“Sorry, Captain.”
“They’ll be there.” Pulling on the reins of his horse, he moved aside as the rest of the group trotted past. Most of the ancient port city had been reclaimed by the forest, but there was still evidence of the grandeur she once held. Monuments and crumbing statutes, covered by the dirt and grime of the ages, stared in a silent vigil toward the sea, protecting the memory of the ancient Fomorian city. Urcias hesitated. Remaining behind, he watched his men as they climbed a partial road into the snow-covered ruins. He stared at the dreary scene and shook his head. They had been lucky. Horses had been recovered, so the journey from their position at the wreck took just under a day and he was glad of that. But the weather had taken a turn for the worse. Would the wizard be down there?
Urcias glanced up at the sky. Low clouds had started to descend and a light fog was creeping in from the sea. The new snow had started to fall heavily and the large flakes stuck to his leather. He nudged his horse forward to catch up to the men. They must be. They had to be.
The gait of the animals slowed as they drew closer to the heart of the city. Urcias knew their nerves were frazzled. An earthquake had interrupted their travel midmorning, making them take notice. Rufus felt that the Black Warlock had some hand in it. He was adamant that the powerful spell had been woven already. But Urcias thought otherwise. No, it’s something else. He knew in his heart that if Uthal had started the spell it would have meant the warlock had already escaped from the prison of the mirror. The spell of winter would have intensified, as the horde of darkness swept over the sea to Green Isle, turning everything in its path into a frozen wasteland. No. It was the island speaking. He told this to his men, hoping to calm their fears. But was it really?
“Do you want to rest, Captain?” Thyssen inquired. He turned his brown mare around to face Urcias. The question brought Urcias from his thoughts.
“It would do us a bit of good. We’ve been runnin’ the horses hard all day,” Christos stated. “Besides. The weather is gettin’ worse. Don’t you agree?”
Urcias nodded. “Let’s get to the cover of the ruins. The sun’s setting. We’ll camp here for the night.”
Zuya, a small man with an olive complexion, sat behind Christos on his horse. He quickly hopped from the animal and ran toward the ruins. “I’ll find us wood, sir,” he exclaimed. He quickly disappeared into the shadows of the giant pines.
“Like a monkey that one is.” Christos laughed briefly. “Climbs trees like he was born in them.”
“He may climb like a monkey, but he fights like a shadow,” Thyssen replied. “Saved my arse many times in battle.”
“He’s a wind dancer,” Papella stated. His blue eyes squinted against the cold breeze that ruffled his blond hair. “Dances on the clouds and strikes like a snake. Comes from the heathens that used to live along Half Moon Lake. You know those who just showed up a couple hundred years ago?”
“Where did they come from?” Urcias asked.
“No one knows. Some say from Earth,” Thyssen replied. “Got tangled up with some wild magic and came through a hidden portal in the ApHar Mountains.”
“He’s alone, now. Ya know,” Ditred mumbled through chattering teeth. The bandage over his head sagged with the weight of ice crystals. The blood spots had turned brown from the cold. “He’s the last of his people. Bera got to them. There was a small tribe of wind dancers living around Half-Moon Lake. In the south marshes. That witch sent the Shadow People after them with orders to destroy every man and woman. Including their children. The tribe protected the unicorns.”
“Yes. I remember now,” Thyssen said. “Makes you wonder why she wanted the tribe removed.”
Coming into the shelter of the ancient port city, Urcias urged his men to find a spot that would protect them from the bitter wind coming off the sea. The waves crashed against the cliffs, and the sound reminded him of their battle with the Wurm. My sweet Adalay. His heart sank into silent despair.
After seeing to the welfare of the horses, the men gathered around the fire that Zuya created. The heat felt good and even the small morsels they ate seemed to be satisfying. Urcias held out his hand to the flame. His mind moved again to Adalay. For just a moment the vision of her beautiful face flashed in his mind’s eye. He shook his head, trying to dislodge the mental picture. He didn’t want to remember her right now, because there wasn’t time for grief. At least not the way she should have been grieved for.
“Are you okay, Captain?” Rufus asked. His voice remained low.
“Yes. Why do you ask?”
“I know you. I know that look. And I know about yer feelings for Queen Adalay.”
Urcias closed his eyes and turned from the light of the fire. He didn’t want any of his men to witness the torment of his soul. “I can’t allow myself to dwell on her right now. I’ve got to get us to Crag Cairn and distractions have no place here,” he said. He hoped his words didn’t waver.
“Sir?”
“Rufus?”
“Yes. I understand,” the lieutenant murmured. He moved away from Urcias.
The captain was glad he was left alone. He continued to gaze at the fire well after the group grew silent. Only the crackle of the wood as the flames consumed them filled the night air. This allowed him time. Time to think, to grieve, to collect his feelings. It was in the later hours of the night, when the men had drifted to sleep, that he felt he could finally get rest. But just before his eyes closed, the horses became uneasy.
At first it was just a whinny or two. They shifted quietly but then moved and thrashed against their tethering. Urcias rose to find that Zuya had already ventured out of the shelter and into the blast of chilly air coming from the ocean. The snow swirled in a chaotic dance around his shoulders as he moved toward the animals. Urcias could hear him talking softly to the beasts. Within moments, they had quieted.
“What’s going on?” Thyssen asked.
“The horses were spooked.” Urcias and the others made their way to Zuya.
“Something’s out there,” the wind dancer said.
“The wizard?”
“No. Something else.”
When a figure emerged from the shadows of the trees, the sudden appearance startled everyone. Drawing their weapons, the eight warriors braced for an attack.
“Hello? Can you help me? I’ve hurt my ankle and it may be broken.”
The figure limped closer and Urcias gasped. He recognized the boy. “Matt? Is it you?” He moved quickly and clasped Matt’s shoulders. “It’s good to see you. Where are Keltrain and the others?” Motioning to his men to lower their blades, Urcias and Ortho helped Matt to the warmth of the fire. Ortho draped one of his blankets over the boy, patted him gently on the back, and smiled.
“You know this person?” Christos asked. His dark face contorted into a frown.
“Yes. This is one of the legendary four that traveled with the wizard. This is Matt. He was there at the outpost. The day the Brollachan attacked.”
Papella knelt in front of Matt and carefully lifted up the boy’s leg to examine the ankle. “There seems to be some swelling. But it doesn’t look to be broken. Maybe just a small sprain, from what I can see.”
“Where are the others?” the captain asked again.
“We were attacked by a giant black water dragon. It smashed our ship and everyone was separated in the water. I don’t know if they survived,” Matt exclaimed.
“That isn’t news I want to hear.” Urcias frowned.
“What are we going to do now?” Thyssen inquired. “Do we need t
o look for the others along the shoreline?”
“I can look for you, sir. It wouldn’t take much for me to go along the fog,” Zuya offered.
“No. I don’t want us separated. We’ll sleep on it tonight and in the morning, we’ll decide. I told Keltrain we would meet him here to help protect the sword’s champion. Obviously, it’s not the boy. So, it must be one of the other children. Without that sword and its protector, fighting against Uthal is useless.”
“Why do we need them? Can’t we take on this warlock ourselves? The Queen gave us the sanctions for war,” Ditred exclaimed. He placed his axe between his knees and held up his palms to the red embers in the fire.
“It’s not that simple,” Urcias replied. He turned to the boy. “Other than your ankle, are you all right?”
Matt nodded and drew the blanket tighter around his body. “It wouldn’t take us but a couple of days, sir. To look along the shore for them. I’m sure they made it.”
Urcias nodded. “We’ll discuss it in the morning. Rest for now.”
When Urcias moved back to the fire, Christos pulled him aside. “Captain? I hope ya don’t mind me sayin’ this. But I feel uncomfortable about the lad. You say ya know him. But would ya know him? If you get what I’m askin’. Understand the inside of the boy. Not just the outside?”
“What are you getting at?”
“I can’t put my finger on it. But there’s something wrong about this boy. Somethin’ just not right about who he says he is. Mind ya. Could be just the veteran in me. War weary and all. But I’m tellin’ ya, that boy feels strange.”
“I believe we’re all on edge. I understand what you’re asking. But it’s Matt. Go rest. There’s nothing wrong with him. Other than being a frightened young man who’s been through more than any other young man his age should go through.” Urcias shook his head as Christos cast a doubtful glance his way. “Enough. All right.”
“If ya say so, sir.” Christos walked away, toward his saddle. Urcias shook his head when Christos glared at him.
When Matt fell asleep, Urcias studied him. What was Christos implying? How would he know the inside of someone? Shaking his head, he moved away from the questions in his thoughts. He was weary too and needed rest without the jumbled visions of Adalay and the men’s fears chasing each other through his dreams. He closed his eyes and lay his head on his saddle. Tomorrow they would scour the coast for any sign of the wizard and others. Hopefully, all would be found alive. He didn’t want to entertain the possibility that the Sword of Balorn and its champion lie at the bottom of the sea with Adalay.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Bijan skimmed the surface of the water, his white wings moving with elegant strokes. Ned clung to the dragon’s neck as he watched the water below. Both had decided earlier that crossing the underground lake was probably the best way to find an exit out of the dragon’s prison. The red glow grew brighter as they drew closer to the opposite side of the lake. To Ned, this suggested that they made the right decision.
Conversation never ceased between the two during the journey. Ned felt compelled to relate the long story Queen Erulisse had told to him and his friends concerning the events of the Second War and the fate of the Fomorians. Bijan asked questions from time to time, but mainly remained quiet until Ned finished.
“It’s as I feared,” Bijan said. “Uthal completed his task of destroying the Fomorian race. All their grace and beauty shall be lost to this world and yours. Except in memories. Even then. Those will be eventually gone, too. Disappearing into myths as the generations on Earth die. Who will remember magic and its creation? Who will take care of it here?”
“Then we can’t let him win. I’ve freed you. Will you help me now? In return?”
“Yes. Did you see any of my kin when you were traveling the lands?”
“Only DaGon.”
“And who is DaGon? I don’t recognize this dragon’s name.”
“He’s not like you. He’s very small for a dragon. And he pals around with a flower fairy.”
“Has all our kind been erased from the lands?”
“I didn’t see any more while we traveled here. But that’s not to say that there aren’t some hiding somewhere or another. Hopefully, your kin hasn’t passed into myth, too.” He knew about myths. They studied them in school. Those of Greek gods and Titans. He wondered if stories about their adventures on Green Isle would become myths. Could the memories of their actions here be bedtime stories people would tell their children? He tried to picture himself as a hero, but couldn’t conjure up an image of anything but a scared little boy who whined too much. He sighed deeply. He would have to do better at his adventure.
“If Uthal does get out of that mirror, Matt’s brother and my cousins lose. And I guess, so does everybody else. I don’t want that to happen. I’ve got to do something to help.”
“You’re certainly very brave, Ned Neely.”
Ned was silent for a moment. He didn’t know what to say to Bijan’s statement. He recalled his actions since passing through the portal and on to Be’thasileth. When they stood looking at the lush green hilltops overlooking Fairy Dell, it had seemed overpowering. He vaguely remembered his emotions. They certainly weren’t brave ones. He felt as if a thousand years had passed since that day. He felt older than the gentleman who lay beneath the crimson flowers, put to sleep by their bite for a hundred years. Ned wondered if perhaps this was all a bad dream and he would awaken in the sanctuary of his bedroom.
“You’re very quiet. Is something wrong?” Bijan inquired.
“No. Nothing’s wrong. I was just thinkin’ that I haven’t been very brave at all. I’m sure my brother, Thomas, gets pretty tired of me whinin’ all the time.”
“I, for one, think you’re extremely brave. You released me from my prison, didn’t you? You didn’t even know what I was and you still set me free. That’s true bravery. To face the unknown, and instead of turning away, move forward into its realm without flinching. It conveys much about your personality. In my opinion.”
Bijan seemed very wise. Ned had never looked at it that way. Perhaps there was some touch of valor deep in his soul.
“Did Queen Erulisse mention what became of the Royal Griffins? They were with me that day I fell into the Bodach’s trap. Both stayed behind as I followed the fake Prince Finley down into the cavern.”
“No. She only said they were the ones that brought the remaining Fomorians to Green Isle. When their land fell into the sea.”
“Perhaps they perished in the Second War. Their might would have been good to have when we confront Uthal.”
The dragon slowed his speed, as the red light grew brighter. Hovering over a cliff, his wings beat faster as he carefully lowered his body to the edge of the rocky surface. Once his talons grasped the overhang, he bent his head so that Ned could climb off, and then maneuvered in beside the boy.
“It’s an elf stone,” Bijan stated. He reached up with his snout and touched the oval rock that illuminated a large metal doorway. “A rather large one. Put here to keep something out…”
“…or in.” Ned looked up at the dragon.
“Ahh, yes. I see your point. It was placed here to keep me in.”
“How are we gonna get out of here?” Ned surveyed the large iron door. “That thing would need a tank to move it. If we could even unlock it.”
“The elf stone is placed with a spell,” the dragon said. “I don’t know what incantation would have been used, but I can push it open if we can find a way around the spell. I may not be like this tank you speak of. But I have power.”
Ned contemplated the door, fingering his silver key as he thought. It took just a moment for him to make the connection with the key again. He pulled it out of his tunic and held it up. Would the door have the same lock that imprisoned Bijan? “Maybe this will break the door’s spell,” Ned exclaimed. “Help me look for a keyhole.”
As Bijan examined the top of the iron door, Ned investigated the lower area. It t
ook several minutes before Ned noticed a twinkle of silver in the soft red glow of the blood stone. Hidden by a group of rocks that had apparently slid down from above, the corner protruded just enough to catch the light. Just enough for us to find it.
“Here! It’s covered by rocks. Maybe you can get them off,” Ned yelled.
Bijan’s strong talons moved the boulders away with ease. Once the front of the large silver box was exposed, Ned noticed it was covered in the same strange language that was engraved on the key. “They seem to match,” he said, holding up his key. “Let’s hope it fits.”
Moving away from the door, the dragon balanced himself on the edge of the cliff, watching as Ned carefully inserted the silver key. He turned it until he heard the mechanism click. Unlike Bijan’s box, there wasn’t a bright white light and earthquake. Small whirling sounds could be heard inside the metal as the springs loosened. The noises grew louder. Finally, with one loud clank, the metal door pushed outwards.
“It worked!” Ned screamed. He jumped up and down in delight, kicking out his feet in a small jig.
“You have saved us once more, Ned Neely. But the bigger question is: where are we?” Bijan’s massive shoulder pushed the heavy door further open. The dragon peered into the dark hole. “Have we only opened another part of my prison?”
Ned viewed the enormous space behind the iron door. There was nothing but blackness. But for some reason, he wasn’t afraid. “We just need a light,” he said. He held up his key. “I’m glad I had this.” He tucked it back under his tunic.
Bijan stood up on his back legs and dug at the glowing elf stone. “This will work,” he said, placing the shimmering stone in his teeth.
Ned nodded. “It sure will.” Following the dragon down into the dark hole, Ned wondered if this would lead them to Crag Cairn and his friends. Hopefully.
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